Those piercing eyes! Those smooth, manicured, tactile fingers. That faraway look of injured innocence. How fresh and recent it all seems. Yet how long ago, lost in the mists of forgotten meetings. Snatched glances beneath the flip charts. Muttered affections as the coffee was poured. The accidental touch of a knee sometimes. The smile of confidence mixed with the look of yearning. His Powerpoints were always pithy. That is how I would prefer to remember him. Strong. Courageous. Excellent. But it all went wrong. I thought it was love. He knew it was lust. My frailty. Our tragedy. And someone was going to have to pay. Luckily I logged the calls, retained the texts and kept the few handwritten notes. I am tempted to publish some soon.
No comments:
Post a Comment